


we’ll be a fine line (we’ll be alright)

by merlinemrys (divineauthor)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bearded Arthur, But also, Conversations, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Established Relationship, Getting Together, Golden Age, Hands, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Older Arthur, Older Merlin, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), POV Multiple, Tenderness, Time Travel, Touch-Starved, Voyeurism, bearded Merlin, time travel is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divineauthor/pseuds/merlinemrys
Summary: Arthur didn’t move, not even when Merlin, this odd refined older Merlin that he couldn’t even recognise anymore, grabbed the back on his neck and leaned his forehead against his. Arthur closed his eyes, but nothing helped. Merlin had taken over all his senses. Common one too, it seemed. “Arthur, know that I would never betray you. I use it for you, to protect you. Because I…”He never finished his sentence, just left it hanging in the air.—•—Merlin just wanted to go back in time to pull a prank on Arthur. It doesn’t go as planned. His plans never do. Now he and King Arthur are back in the past to make sure their present doesn’t get destroyed. Confusing, he knows. He has a headache as well.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 420
Collections: Scruffy Pendragon Fest





	we’ll be a fine line (we’ll be alright)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biclarisselarue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biclarisselarue/gifts).



> grace got me thinking about this and i couldn't get it out of my mind jsadfgk. this is based off these two [pics](https://merlinemrys.tumblr.com/post/613855727197519872/thinking-about-this-concept) i sent to her and also the [new merlin content](https://merlinemrys.tumblr.com/post/614574094759952384/yenneferrr-eagle-eyed-fans-will-notice-a) we got !! 
> 
> is everyone a little ooc ?? who knows. besides: driver gets to pick the self-indulgent tropes & shotgun reads it regardless 
> 
> title from: harry styles’ “fine line”

_Put a price on emotion_

_I'm looking for something to buy_

_You've got my devotion_

_But man, I can hate you sometimes_

* * *

* * *

Merlin could admit that his knowledge of time magic was shaky at best. There weren’t many texts about it even before the Purge and there certainly weren’t many now. But the only thing the few texts he found had in common was that it could never happen. But he never gave much attention to magical laws that governed the world when he was a wee babe and he’d like to keep up with that trend. He did impossible things before and, now that he was thinking about it, some of his most instinctual magic was related to time. Others simply thought it was a spell to halt movement, but Merlin knew deep down it couldn’t be that. 

Living things simply stopped moving, breathing, all their functions ceased by his mind. Wind stopped howling, the rivers stopped running, the flowers stopped swaying. Merlin remembered the first time he realised time stopped. He was a child, hadn’t even seen his seventh winter yet, and the other children had been taunting him, calling him a freak, a bastard child, and he just closed his eyes and willed for everything to stop. 

And it did. 

He would’ve thought he’d killed them if it weren’t for the fact that they were still standing, mouths open and twisted with vitriol. But it took him quite a few moments to realise everything was too quiet, the usual humdrum of life was gone and all he could do was gape. He saw a butterfly in flight, frozen in air, a few steps away and Merlin gently walked toward it, his hand outstretched. His finger grazed its wing and it moved, malleable beneath his touch. 

He could run away from it all, the mean taunts, the suspicious glares sent his way, the odd ache in his chest where belonging should be. But if he ran, everyone in Ealdor would know about his magic. They’d badger his mother until she’d start crying… he couldn’t even think about his mother’s reaction to her only kin abandoning her. Merlin couldn’t stomach the thought. So he walked back to where he stood moments prior and clenched his hands by his side. He breathed out harshly then willed time to start again. 

It was jarring, the complete silence to a barrage of sound. Out of the corner of Merlin’s eye, the butterfly he moved stumbled — and wasn’t that something to see, a butterfly, simple grace and beauty in life, stumbling in air — before it gathered its strength to fly again. 

So yes, Merlin knew quite a bit more about time magic than the common and uncommon sorcerer, but few experiences with it didn’t make him a wise scholar. (He could practically feel Gaius laughing at him at his own thoughts.) Merlin instinctively knew it was dangerous to meddle with time and if someone with less morals and the same powers as he had it, they’d potentially ruin the balance of the Old Religion permanently, bringing the world into utter chaos and despair. 

And what Merlin wanted to do with his power was to pull a prank on the king. 

He practiced, discreetly of course. First, just to see if he _could_ do it. And he did. He started off with hours at first, then days, and once he reached a full year, Merlin figured he had the capability of going to the past. And Merlin had it all planned out. He’d find some way to visit Arthur back when he was still the prince, before the Merlin of that time had arrived there even. Just to be contrary, he would make Arthur’s day an annoyance: clean clothes were suddenly gone, his normal breakfast suddenly shrunk down to a simple apple, his training swords even duller and heavier than usual. That was just for Merlin’s personal amusement, knowing his younger self would be subjected to a lot more annoyance than Arthur would give. It was preemptive justice, if you will. 

But his main goal was to surprise _his_ Arthur. If he could plan it out correctly, Merlin wouldn’t even be questioned because he had been next to Arthur all day and night for weeks on end. A perfect alibi in Arthur himself. Merlin was a genius. And it would happen as if no time has passed in his current time at all because it didn’t. 

He chortled aloud, breaking the morning silence. Arthur jabbed his side with his elbow lightly, raising an eyebrow at his random laughter. Merlin tried to smother his grin, but as he took a glance at Arthur’s eyes, his smile softened into something fonder. He moved until he was on his side, his head resting on his hand, as his eyes languidly roamed over Arthur’s figure. 

Arthur was always harsh lines of muscle, crisp red cloaks and the cold clink of chainmail and armour when he was outside. But under the morning sun, laying in their bed, he glowed gold, soft and bright and warm and _his._ Merlin felt as though he had captured a god in the palms of his hands and the universe let Merlin keep him. Arthur turned to his side too, mirroring Merlin’s position. 

Merlin shook his head and reached out his free hand to cup Arthur’s cheek, his thumb moving against sun-kissed skin. _Nothing,_ he meant. 

Arthur’s eyes fluttered slightly before he pursed his lips a little, continuing to raise his eyebrow. _Oh, really?_

Merlin scrunched up his nose and leaned in to kiss Arthur. _Just shut up._

Arthur breathed out a sigh and melted into his mouth. _Okay,_ Arthur seemed to say. 

They didn’t say much after that. 

It was an hour later when George knocked on the door to bring them breakfast, when Merlin finally got himself and Arthur dressed in their usual court attire. George and Merlin had an agreement. Merlin would let George do most of the chores, cleaning their chambers and getting them food and whatnot, but Merlin had used his newfound power to order George to give him some of his old manservant duties back. Namely, dressing Arthur and cleaning his armour. Merlin has developed quite a sense of possessiveness he didn’t know that he had until Arthur named him his Royal Consort. 

Oh, Merlin knew how tempting of a picture Arthur made. It was chronically unfair how beautiful he looked, regal and kind, all high cheekbones and pretty lips. His hair was longer than it had ever been, covering his ear, falling artfully over his forehead, and his jaw was now scattered with a hint of stubble, making him a little more rugged. 

A perfect king with the looks to match. 

He knew the castle’s not-so secret gossip, the way some people’s eyes locked on Arthur’s figure with something more than respect, bordering on indecency. He knew how many people had tried to bewitch Arthur, knew who looked at his king fondly. But after Arthur essentially declared Merlin his to the whole of Albion, Merlin had this niggling want to do the same. So he did it, in small ways. And one of the first ways he did it was to let George relieve himself of the duty of dressing Arthur. 

George, being himself, acquiesced easily, especially under Arthur’s acceptance. 

And despite George’s competency, Merlin felt much safer knowing Arthur’s protection was in his hands, his responsibility. He spent an inordinate amount of time imbuing Arthur’s armour with spells and such, even back when he was just a servant. And a new title wouldn’t change that. 

Merlin was brought out of his thoughts when Arthur hummed under his breath, pushing aside his empty plate and grabbing his ink and parchment to start off his day before he held court. Merlin, in the chair next to him, was struck with the realisation that it was an ideal time to go back to the past. Arthur was next to him and Merlin was in the middle of eating and he wouldn’t notice a thing. 

So with everything in mind, his magic dancing underneath the surface of his skin waiting with the anticipation of being used, he was gone. 

The second Merlin realised he was in a different time, he blanched. Merlin should’ve thought more of his plan through. Or practiced. Or just generally used his brain for more than two seconds at a time. 

He forgot to account for the physical space he was in, too busy being love drunk and reveling in it. As Court Sorcerer, Merlin has his own room (actually he commandeered the East Tower now), but that was usually for any of his experiments. But as Royal Consort, he slept in Arthur’s chambers most nights. He didn’t realise that when he went back in time he would be at Arthur’s desk, frozen as this half-naked and young Arthur grabbed a sword from somewhere and pointed it at him with startlingly quick reflexes for someone who just got out of bed. 

Merlin stood from the table and raised his hands, a gesture of surrender. And as if he had lost all sense of logic, he blurted out, “I’d prefer not to get stabbed this early in the morning, Arthur.”

Arthur held up his sword for a moment longer before he squinted and almost dropped it in shock. “Merlin?”

So he recognised Merlin. This wasn’t good. This _really_ wasn’t good. He really shouldn’t have messed with time magic.

* * *

* * *

All Arthur could do was gawk at the man who suddenly appeared in his room. No, not just any man. Merlin. God help him, that was _Merlin._ He was still taller than Arthur by about a finger’s width and he still had the same black hair and blue eyes. The resemblance was uncanny. Arthur could never forget his face even if he looked… different. 

_Ravishing,_ his mind corrected. _Beautiful._

Arthur gulped a little, feeling hot all of a sudden even though he could feel the draft coming in from his open window pouring over his half-naked body. 

Merlin’s clothes were well-worn, but of a high quality. Worthy of someone in court. His white tunic stretched across his broadened chest, a dark blue jacket covered his shoulders and he wore a pair of well-dyed black trousers. He even had his signature neckerchief, but instead of some ragged cloth, it was fine and well cared for. Arthur even saw a glint of what looked like his mother’s sigil resting between the folds of the cloths, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. 

Arthur’s gaze landed firmly on Merlin’s face which had filled out, making him look more refined. His hair was longer too, curling over his ears and flopping tastefully over his forehead. His beard, short-trimmed and well groomed had done nothing but make Merlin more distinguished. If Arthur didn’t know who he was, he would’ve thought, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this man was royalty. 

And he stood like one too. A self-assured air to him, like Merlin’s clumsiness and lingering doubts has faded away and left this confident man in his wake. 

For all of Arthur’s bravado, he felt shaken. The sword in his hand lowered, but his hand still gripped it loosely. Arthur whispered, “Sorcery.”

His eyes never left Merlin’s who just sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. Arthur followed the movement and it wasn’t until sound rushed back into his ears when he realised Merlin was muttering underneath his breath, beginning to pace around the room. 

“...should’ve factored in my presence… so stupid! … do I explain this...”

Arthur coughed. “Merlin.”

“...an idiot, God help me…”

“Merlin,” he said again, annoyed now. 

“...wonder if any books in the…”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur snapped, rolling his eyes, finally gaining his attention. Merlin looked up and stopped pacing around the room like a caged animal. “Care to explain to me how you suddenly appeared in my room looking older? Or do I have to wait until you stop your inane chattering?”

“How are you so calm about this?” Merlin asked, throwing his hands up in the air. “What if I was an assassin? God, I could’ve killed you, you prat! Do you have no sense of self-preservation?”

“Because I know it’s you, Merlin,” Arthur replied. And he did. Even despite his sudden appearance, Arthur never felt like he was in danger. It was a reflex, honestly, to just grab his weapon. _And you look like a dream come to life,_ he thought. “Just tell me how this happened.”

Merlin grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little and they were deeper, as though he had years of laughter behind him. Arthur was pleased by that. A Merlin that never smiled wasn’t Merlin at all. Merlin looked sheepish. “Magic?”

“I know that, you idiot, but I’m asking for specifics.” 

Then, without warning, Arthur shivered a little as the wind blew into his room harsher than before. It seemed like Merlin finally realised that he still wasn’t dressed and that set him into movement. 

“You’re going to catch a cold like that, Arthur. Who in their right mind has their window open on a day like this?” Merlin said, rummaging through his wardrobe with practiced ease. He finally pulled out a red tunic, thicker than his other ones, and walked towards Arthur. 

“I’ll have you know, Merlin, that last night was wretchedly—” Arthur started, but faltered as Merlin stood in front of him, smelling of fresh linens and something sweet that he couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Warm,” he finished lamely. 

Merlin snorted then raised an eyebrow slightly, a motion for Arthur to tilt his head down so Merlin could place the tunic over his head. Merlin, Arthur’s Merlin, usually dressed him like this for armour. But this older more refined Merlin seemed perfectly at ease, pulling his clothes down his chest, the slightest hint of skin trailing over his body, making Arthur shiver again but this time it wasn’t with the cold. 

There was a hint of a smirk on Merlin’s lips as he looked up, eyes coy, and let his hands rest on Arthur’s hips. His touch felt like fire and Arthur wasn’t sure he was ready to burn. Merlin said, “There, _my king_.”

Merlin always infused any title, even incorrect ones, with sarcasm, biting and somehow tender at the same time, but this was different. Arthur didn’t know how, but he could see the way Merlin’s eyes darkened. Arthur’s throat was dry. 

“Not your king yet,” he managed to say instead of asking any pertinent questions, like how Merlin got into this mess in the first place. Merlin straightened and his hands left Arthur’s body, leaving him cold again. 

“You’ve always been my king, Arthur.” There was an earnest look in Merlin’s eyes. 

“That could almost be considered treason.” 

Merlin laughed and stepped away. “My existence here is treasonous. If your father ever finds out—”

“He won’t,” Arthur interrupted, suddenly overwhelmed with terror at the idea of Merlin getting sentenced to death. He grabbed Merlin’s arm without a second thought and held it tightly, as if his father would barge into his room and take him away this second. “Merlin, what happened? Did a sorcerer send you back? Where’d you even come from?”

“It’s my fault.” Merlin smiled, sadder this time. His arm moved until their hands were clasped together. Arthur looked down at their entwined fingers and dry-swallowed. 

“Who did you manage to anger this badly—”

“Arthur, it’s me. _I_ did it,” Merlin said softly. “I’m the one who travelled back in time. Rather stupidly too.”

Arthur would’ve said something, anything, make a joke, insult him like he usually would. But he couldn’t. 

Merlin had magic. 

Even though his heart loathed to do it, he snatched his hand away from Merlin’s grip and took a few steps back, jerking as he stumbled into the table. Merlin looked wrecked. He had a subtle sheen to his eyes that Arthur couldn’t ignore, but he tried to anyway. 

“Why?” Arthur whispered, cracked and a little broken. 

“I was born with it,” Merlin admitted, not unkindly but not without regret. He stepped forward slowly, waiting to see Arthur’s reaction. He didn’t move, not even when Merlin, this odd refined older Merlin that he couldn’t even recognise anymore, grabbed the back on his neck and leaned his forehead against his. Arthur closed his eyes, but nothing helped. Merlin had taken over all his senses. Common one too, it seemed. “Arthur, know that I would never betray you. I use it for you, to protect you. Because I…”

He never finished his sentence, just left it hanging in the air. 

“Arthur…”

“Shut up, Merlin,” he said, but to his ears it sounded like a plea. Pathetic. “For once in your life, just shut up.”

All Arthur could hear was his and Merlin’s breathing, even the sounds of Camelot outside his room walls were faded, tinny noise in his ears. He turned away and said, “Leave. I don’t care where you go just… leave me.” 

“Okay,” Merlin whispered. 

Arthur couldn’t help but add, “Try not to get caught, or I’ll have to get you from the dungeons and kill you myself.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, just brushed past him towards the door. Arthur would’ve called out his name, but Merlin simply vanished, a faint glimmer of gold left in his absence until it dissolved and disappeared. 

It was true then. Arthur’s ears weren’t being deceived. He grabbed the back of his chair and pulled it, slumping down into the fur until he leaned his head into his arms. The door opened and Arthur stiffened, knowing the only person it could be was his Merlin because no one would dare come into his room without knocking first. He was humming, but he stopped once he saw Arthur. 

“Arthur? Are you okay? Did you dress yourself?”

He lifted his head and saw Merlin in his normal threadbare outfit as he rushed over, putting the breakfast down with uncoordinated hands before scanning Arthur’s figure. 

“You look fine, but maybe it’s—”

“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur started, voice tense. “Was everything a lie?”

That stopped Merlin’s fidgeting. Good. “I don’t understand.”

“Would you lie to me, Merlin. About important things,” he asked instead. Merlin was about to shake his head, but Arthur gave him a pointed stare. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

Merlin didn’t respond and that was the answer in and of itself. Arthur looked down at the food in front of him, feeling sick at the sight. He nodded and stood up. “I’m going to train. You’re relieved of your duties today.”

“You haven’t eaten yet,” Merlin said, undoubtedly confused. 

“Have it then.” After Arthur had seen older Merlin and how well-fed he looked, his Merlin was like skin on bones. Even if there was a whirlwind of betrayal and anger and frustration in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t find it within himself to banish him, let alone leave him to his father’s bidding. Arthur knew his Merlin had magic — _I was born with it,_ flashed across his mind — but something about the fact that even now, Merlin didn’t tell him made him crumble. What else had he lied about? Who else could he trust?

“Arthur…”

God, the tone was the same as his older counterpart. Did Fate truly hate him enough to torture him this way? He just needed _space._

Arthur didn’t bother answering. He simply tugged on his boots and marched straight to the training area.

* * *

* * *

Merlin was silent as he went back to his room. Something was wrong with Arthur and Merlin didn’t have the heart to question him more, especially after whatever the hell had happened earlier. He felt exposed, but he didn’t know why and it left an odd feeling in his chest. 

He ate Arthur’s food on the way down to drop off the plates and when he opened the door he said, “Gaius, Arthur’s been acting strange today…”

His voice trailed off because across from Gaius was himself. Clearly older and well-dressed. His older self looked at him grimly. “Yeah, that would be my fault.”

The elder Merlin merely gestured to him to sit down as he explained what he had done, in vague detail that infuriated him. 

“You did _what?_ ” Merlin said, sitting across from himself and trying to keep himself from yelling. Or strangling himself. Either of himself (himselves? — this was a headache he didn’t know could exist). Older Merlin seemed resigned, but not at all regretful. “All of this from a stupid prank? God, maybe Arthur does have a point. I am an idiot. You’re from the future! Isn’t this going to, I don’t know, ruin everything?”

“I made a promise not to lie to him. Not anymore.” Older Merlin smiled wryly. “I was going to, you know, to save my own future. But I looked at him and I just… couldn’t.”

“You don’t know what you just did, what this could do.”

“Merlin, you may have upset the balance with your actions,” Gaius added. 

“I haven’t,” he answered easily, surprising them both. “I can feel these things. If I did something irreparable, I would know. And I wasn’t even planning on going this far back in the past. I was hoping to get here before I — you — showed up in Camelot.”

“Perhaps your abilities can only extend as far as your destiny’s path. You chose to go too far back and Fate led you forward to this moment.” Gaius’ brows furrowed. 

Older Merlin shrugged, graceless with his acquiescence. “Yeah, probably.”

“Okay, but now you screwed up _my_ time and now Arthur’s mad at me! I wasn’t even in his chambers for more than two minutes before he stormed out,” Merlin said, exasperated. 

Older Merlin scratched at his beard subconsciously and hummed. “Maybe I can bring my Arthur here.”

Merlin stared at his older self, unable to think. He just offered to bring… the future Arthur… to this time. The king Merlin had waited ages to see rise to the full glory of the prophecy. His best friend. His _older_ best friend. His heart stuttered in his chest. He could barely handle his Arthur at times. He had kept his feelings locked down enough so it didn’t impair his ability to function, but sometimes when the sun beamed down on Arthur, creating a halo of light on his head and he tilted his head back and laughed at whatever the knights had told him… Merlin’s breath always left his lungs. 

It was usually easy to ignore how handsome Arthur was. He was his manservant for God’s sake, he dressed the man daily, saw his bare body naked more times than he thought would’ve been possible. Merlin didn’t know how to react if he saw an older Arthur. 

But Merlin didn’t have enough time to think before Gaius said, “That might be a good idea. Can you do it though?”

Merlin was wide-eyed and still. 

“I mean probably. I haven’t travelled with another person before, but my magic hasn’t failed me when it’s Arthur’s life on the line. Well, usually.” Older Merlin leaned his arms against the table. “It won’t even be a second if I do this correctly. I’ll just inform my Arthur about what I did and hopefully he doesn’t throw me in the stocks for it.”

His older self grinned as if there was some kind of joke behind his words. He stood up and gathered the very expensive, very royal-looking dark blue jacket hanging over the edge before putting it on in a quick movement. 

If his Arthur didn’t kill him by the end of today and miraculously appointed him Court Sorcerer, Merlin hoped his future wardrobe would look inviting. As comfortable as he was in his current clothing, he would bet his entire next year’s pay that it wasn’t as comfortable as what his older self was wearing. 

“It shouldn’t take more than a second, less than that even,” Older Merlin said before his eyes glowed a bright gold and he disappeared. 

He and Gaius waited the second, then a couple more, until a few minutes had passed. The moment a quarter of the hour ticked by, Gaius had looked worried and told him he was going to search for some texts that might explain why his older self was taking too long. Merlin offered to help, but Gaius had told him to stay put if they did come back. 

After Gaius left, Merlin wondered aloud, “How much really changed in the future?”

But his question was drowned out as two new voices suddenly jumped in. 

“—erlin, you can’t be serious. For a prank? And now you’ve suddenly ruined the past. Our past. God, of all the idiotic things you’ve done this one really tops it all,” Older Arthur said, looking skyward as if that would solve his problems. 

“It was a _genius_ prank, if I ever got to do it. And I didn’t completely ruin it,” Older Merlin sniped back, the gold in his eyes fading. He crossed his arms and looked defiantly at his counterpart. 

“Oh, and how is that so?” Older Arthur mocked. 

Older Merlin replied, smiling a little. “I still have you here.”

Older Arthur simply pursed his lips and Merlin could tell he was hiding a fond grin. He grabbed his older self’s arm and didn’t let go even after they were uncrossed. “Point taken.”

Merlin just stared, slack-jawed at the future Arthur. He must’ve made some noise because Older Arthur jolted as he realised his surroundings, presumably too caught up in his banter with Merlin’s elder self. 

Merlin’s brain must have broke. It must have because the gods had looked too favourably on this Arthur. This Arthur’s hair was long, much like his older self, but there was something simply beautiful about the way it fell over Arthur’s forehead, almost reaching his eyes. There was a slight hint of a beard that coated his jaw, his upper lips, almost as if he was too busy to shave, content to let his stubble rest. 

Merlin couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel. Was it rough? Softer than it looked? Was Arthur’s skin warm beneath it? Arthur usually shaved without his help, so he never really knew what to expect. Without his own volition, his hands twitched, as if they wanted to rise up and answer all his questions. It took almost all his self control to resist the urge. 

But Older Arthur held no reservations. He smirked and walked towards Merlin until he was less than an arm’s length away. There was something unfamiliar in Older Arthur’s gaze as he tilted Merlin’s chin up with his hand. 

Merlin shivered and Arthur’s eyes darkened. 

“I almost forgot how young you looked,” Older Arthur said, staring straight into his eyes, but his statement was for Older Merlin. This Arthur hummed and his hand moved until his thumb parted Merlin’s lips, putting the slightest amount of pressure on it. He added, sort of absentmindedly, “Still just as pretty.”

Merlin’s face felt hot and he couldn’t tell what his older self’s reaction was, too busy wrapped up in Arthur’s aura. Arthur’s hand left his face soon after and Merlin missed his touch like a limb even though this was the first time any Arthur had touched him like that. Barring his dreams, of course. 

“Don’t tease,” his older self said, voice a little rougher. “I was infatuated with you at this point and I hid it quite well. This must be a shock to him.”

“‘Quite well’? Are you sure about that?” Older Arthur asked, turning his head towards Older Merlin and raising his eyebrows. 

“I, I’m not _infatuated_ —” Merlin tried to argue, but they both gave him a look to quell his rebuttal. 

Older Merlin simply stepped closer and repeated the same action as Older Arthur did to him moments ago. This Arthur seemed to relax under Merlin’s hand, eyes lax and low-lidded. Older Merlin leaned forward, almost kissing him, but just a breath away from doing so. “Like you weren’t pining over me right now.”

He leaned back, leaving Arthur frustrated without a kiss. “I do not _pine,_ Merlin. Kings don’t _pine._ Pining is for soppy poets, not High Kings.”

“There’s a poet buried somewhere in there,” Older Merlin said cheekily. “We studied poetry, did we not?”

“Shut up,” Older Arthur replied. 

Merlin just let out a choked gurgle. 

They, he — his older self and _Arthur,_ were together. Flirting even, blatant and casual in their touches. They must have been together for quite some time. Merlin’s head whirled with the image of him kissing Arthur and he couldn’t help but fidget on the bench.

It was almost voyeuristic the way Merlin wanted to watch them interact, to see the way they exchange insults and endearments in the same breath, to see the intimacy he only ever thought was a faraway dream come to reality in front of his own eyes. 

They both turned back to look at him and smiled. Older Merlin’s exasperated while Older Arthur’s was far more heated than he thought was possible. 

“Ah, yes,” Older Arthur said after a few moments. “Almost forgot about your little problem.”

“Little?” Merlin asked, offended. 

“My problem?” Older Merlin asked at the same time. “This concerns you too, Arthur. Now get to it. You said you had a plan.”

Arthur merely shoved his shoulder lightly into Merlin’s elder counterpart and turned towards him. “Merlin.”

“Y-yes, your majesty,” Merlin said, suddenly thrown by the attention. 

Older Arthur seemed a little intrigued. He tilted his head slightly towards Older Merlin before saying, “You said a title and it didn’t even sound like an insult. I’m surprised.”

“It’s been known to happen occasionally,” Older Merlin drawled, lips twitching into a traitorous grin. 

Older Arthur continued, “My Merlin told me your Arthur ordered you to stay away and we’re going to keep it like that for now. Just tell another servant to send a message to the prince that he is to be in his chambers in no more than two hours by order of the king—”

Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed. “But once he sees that Uther isn’t there, he’ll be even more—”

“It is the order of the king, just not the king he expects.” Older Arthur shifted his weight on his feet and stood a little taller, back straightening and chin firm. Merlin had the vision of this Arthur in his full royal regalia and he had to fight the urge to concentrate. “You two will be preparing for a hunt for us four. Two, three days at most.”

This time the elder Merlin interrupted. “Uh, Arthur, you do know the other Arthur is furious with us. I don’t think he’ll want to spend a few days alone with the two of us.” He gestured to himself and Merlin. 

“Yes, I know, but I’ll convince him to go to Father and ask for it anyway. He won’t say no.” Older Arthur seemed certain. 

Both he and Older Merlin nodded. 

“And besides,” Older Arthur said, looking to his side to grant his elder self a fond smile, “Who knows what magical adversary could befall me? I might need my Court Sorcerer on hand.”

Merlin’s ears must have been clogged. 

“And it’s not because you want your husband by your side?” Older Merlin teased. 

That was it. The leeches from Gaius’ tank must have found their way into his ears because there was no possible way this was happening. Absolutely none. 

Merlin was Arthur’s Court Sorcerer? 

His _husband?_

“Not at all,” Older Arthur said, chin lifted up in the air. But his eyes said, _Of course._

Older Merlin grinned. _I want you too,_ Merlin could hear even while his older self said, “Prat.”

Older Arthur turned back to Merlin and he nodded, getting up clumsily, knocking over a bottle. His reflexes seemed to leave him and he waited, rather stupidly, for the inevitable crash. But it didn’t. Older Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the bottle landed back on the table like it never left. Merlin’s shoulders tensed and he looked at Older Arthur who just continued talking to his elder counterpart. 

Magic was performed in front of Arthur and he didn’t flinch. Merlin felt poleaxed, his whole world tilted on its axis. Of course, Older Arthur himself came to him through magic. But his heart hammered inside his chest at the realisation that this was to be his future. It was like the last few minutes were just a hallucination and he had finally come to his senses to see that it was all real anyway. 

The grin that split across his face was wide and his cheeks hurt from smiling like that. He bounded off out of the room and leaned against the door. He took a deep breath and went to find someone to tell Gaius that his visitors were in his chambers and another servant to grab Arthur while he set off to ready the horses. 

The future, _that_ future, was waiting for him and Merlin couldn’t help but run towards it with open arms.

* * *

* * *

His father never usually called him to his chambers. If he wanted Arthur’s presence, the throne room would do, even his father’s own chambers. But the servant who came running to him looked young and nervous, so he wasn’t about to argue with him. 

Offhandedly, Arthur wondered if the boy was nervous, not to give the king’s message, but to approach _him._ He was hacking away at another training dummy, his body sore and slick with sweat, his lips pursed into a thin line, when the boy came. He had simply nodded, pushing away his hair that had stuck to his face away with his gloved hand. 

“Sorry, sire,” the boy said, voice catching on his title. “The king requests to see you in your chambers in two hours’ time.”

“My chambers?” he asked. 

“Yes, sire.” The boy looked scared in his own skin. 

Arthur gestured towards a squire and one came running. He handed them his weapon and gestured to get rid of his armour. The squire nodded and in moments, he was free. The boy looked a touch less terrified, so he counted that as a win. Arthur clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and smiled. “Thank you. You may go.”

The boy flushed red and bowed hastily before making his retreat. 

He had two hours, but cutting away at the dummies weren’t helping him as they usually did. To be fair, it wasn’t anger he was dealing with. No, that had faded long before he even got to the training grounds. It disappeared the moment Older Merlin pressed his head against his and almost spoke the words he hadn’t even dared to dream of. 

He tugged off his gloves and ran a hand down his face before he walked back towards his chambers. He might as well bathe before seeing his father. Before he entered his room, he asked a servant to fetch water for a bath. She nodded and walked away. He sat down at his desk and went over some details of the grain supply to try and occupy himself as a few servants came and poured water into his bath. 

It was a half-hour before one servant bowed in front of him and said, “It’s ready, sire. Do you require assistance?”

He waved her off. “Thank you.”

She bowed again and left, shutting the door. He quickly got undressed and got in the water. He frowned. It was a bit colder than it usually was when Merlin did it. 

He leaned his head back and scoffed, not unkindly. Merlin. He must’ve used magic to always make his baths the perfect temperature. He smiled, if a bit wobbly. Idiot. He could’ve gotten caught. How did he not notice? Before Merlin came along, most of his baths teetered on the edge of boiling or tepid, but he never really said anything until Merlin. It was always him. 

Arthur scrubbed off perfunctorily, getting the sweat and grime of the day away from his body before his father meets him here. It wouldn’t look good for him to be lounging around while his father looms over him. He popped his head outside to grab someone’s attention to clean up his chambers while he got dressed. Once they nodded, Arthur simply went back and found some clothes before he went behind the folding screen. He haphazardly tied up the laces of his pants and pulled on his shift. As he finished dressing, he went over to his desk to look over some paperwork his father had given him as he waited. 

The servants cleaning up his room distracted him momentarily, mostly because they were just so un-Merlin like. They came in with a knock, bowed in his presence, and didn’t make a sound. It was jarring. He almost forgot this was what servants usually acted like in the presence of royalty. It wasn’t long until they left, quietly as they came in and Arthur was left to stew in his thoughts. 

But then his door opened and Arthur didn’t look up from the reports he was reading because he would lose track of the numbers if he glanced up. But then his senses kicked into gear. Those footsteps were not like his father’s — those were heavy, demanding as his presence usually was. These were a steady gait, much like a knight’s, and Arthur’s gaze immediately sprung up. 

It was him. 

Arthur. _Older_ Arthur. 

Arthur refrained from his usual reaction of jumping up and grabbing a weapon. As it turned out, today was just a plethora of surprises. He clenched his jaw and pretended to look back at the report in his hands. “I was expecting my father.”

“You were expecting the king of Camelot,” Older Arthur said. He raised his arms and bowed his head infinitesimally. “Here I am.”

Arthur slammed down the parchment and gave his elder self a dry look. He looked himself over and furrowed his brow. Time marked him, as it does with everyone, but he looked a little unkempt to be king. “So sorcery’s allowed, but not a single barber? Is that how I look like in the future? Really.”

“There are more important things than vanity,” his older self said, walking over to stand closer. Arthur’s shoulders tensed and he twirled his ring with his thumb. “We had just gotten out of a war. I wasn’t focused on cutting my hair while my people were suffering.” 

That shut Arthur up quickly. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Did Merlin bring you here?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask. His older self softened slightly at the mention of Merlin. It was a stupid question, he knew. Of course, Merlin brought him here. But the _why_ on his tongue stayed there until it crumbled like ash in his mouth. Why did Merlin do anything?

“Yes, but you knew that.” Older Arthur mirrored his own sigh and he looked weary, age lining his face in the cold, dimming sunlight. “Arthur, I know what you’re feeling.”

God, he did. He was Arthur, after all. But that didn’t make any of this easier. 

“It’s not about the magic,” Arthur said and he wished he could grab the words in the still air and shove it back down in his chest, but once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. His elder counterpart stayed silent, but there was understanding in his eyes. “Maybe at first, but I’ve seen magic used for good, true good, despite all the horrors it has done to me. It wasn’t about that. It’s not even about Merlin all that much. He has a damn good reason to keep it a secret. No, it’s about…”

“You,” Older Arthur finished. “The lies.”

“Yes,” he croaked out, laughing even though nothing about it was funny. “I’m the prince and the man that I… the man that I trust the most lies to me everyday and how can I still not care? _Why_ don’t I care? What does that make me?” 

Older Arthur said nothing, not that Arthur was expecting him to. 

He let out a humorless chuckle. Arthur was born broken, splintered by the death of his mother and the raging grief of his father. He had never known what it felt like to be whole, to be his own person and not just the kingdom’s weapon, its prince, its future king. He was born with the weight of the world on his shoulders and he couldn’t carry it like the gods did, for he was just a man with too many scars and a fragile heart. 

Merlin made him feel like the weight wasn’t as burdensome, like he was made for the duty and would shoulder the pain with him. But then this older Merlin came into his life and shattered his worldview because his Merlin was a _liar_. Yes, for good reason too because his father was merciless against any mention of magic. But it was disheartening to find that Merlin would carry his pains, yet Arthur could not do the same to Merlin. It hurt to think that something as integral as magic, something that was so powerful yet so easy to Older Merlin, was hidden away. He wondered what other lies he swallowed that had been force fed down his throat as truth. Did Merlin really think him that dumb? That untrustworthy? 

The worst thing was about all of it was that Arthur still craved those lies again, just to feel whole again. Like he was cared for. _Loved,_ he thought softly. 

God, Arthur didn’t realise what love was supposed to feel like until he met Merlin. Honestly, he never thought he _could_ feel love. Pride, definitely, under his father’s thumb. Affection at times. But true love? He thought he was incapable of it. He was trained at birth to kill, to rule. No one ever said anything about love. Perhaps falling in love with Merlin was his own way of proving to himself that he could love, that he wasn’t completely broken. 

But it _hurt,_ it ached down to the marrow of his bones. Love splintered him apart even more than Arthur thought was possible, yet someone it made him feel more alive. 

“Arthur,” his older self interrupted his thoughts. “Tell your father you’ll be out on a hunt. Two, maybe three days. You need to get out of the castle, clear your head.”

Arthur just nodded, standing up, but just before he left he asked haltingly, “Is this… was this your past? Will I truly get to be you?”

Older Arthur stiffened and looked away. Something in Arthur’s chest dropped. “I don’t remember any of this happening.”

He took a deep breath. Then another. He twirled his ring around slowly, trying to anchor himself back in his body. Arthur couldn’t even hope for the future in front of him. And with that knowledge, he walked around his desk and towards his escape. 

“Everything’s already set up. Just meet us outside the gates,” was the last thing his elder self said to him before he left. 

Arthur was out the door, ready to tell his father about his hunt when it hit him. Who was us?

He was mulling it over as he asked his father who just waved a hand at him as he poured over some of his reports with his fellow councilmen. He took it as a blessing in disguise. It was already getting dark and anyone would question his reason if they were looking hard enough, but his father was too busy and for once that was beneficial to him. When he got to the stables, his horse was already ready, primed and ready to go. He felt odd riding out without Merlin by his side, but he didn’t think about it. Tried to not think about it. 

He kept his eye out for the other Arthur who was obviously in hiding. No use in gaining attention from the guards. He found three other horses tied to a tree and he slowed his pace down to a stop. He clenched his teeth and said aloud, “I don’t want _them_ here.”

Them being both Merlins because, of course, they were here. Arthur could never catch a damn break. 

The three of them materialised into existence, Older Merlin’s eyes glowing gold. Arthur couldn’t stop staring. There was something completely natural about the way he looked using magic, as if his entire being was made for it. 

“Well _I_ do,” Older Arthur countered, stepping closer to his Merlin and gripping his waist comfortably. Arthur swallowed, throat dry at the sight. It didn’t surprise him that they were together, oddly enough. Arthur might have been a fool, but he knew his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Older Merlin said, eyes sad and a gentle smile on his face. God, he was too beautiful to look at like this. Regal and soft in his elder self’s arms. Arthur couldn’t bear to look at his own Merlin because he would just wish he was by his side. His Merlin stayed worryingly quiet through it all. 

“We all need to talk,” his elder self said. 

“No.” He gripped the reins tightly and moved his mare. “I need to hunt.”

He didn’t wait for them to get on their own horses when he guided his mare into a steady gallop. He distantly heard someone cursing and untangling ties before they were catching up to him. Arthur slowed down into a trot so they could catch up, but he deigned to say another word to them. 

It was useless to hunt at this time of day, sun setting and leaving them in a cold, blue night. He was trying to find a place for them to sleep when his Merlin said, “We can stay over there for the night.”

Arthur sighed and stopped, jumping off in a swift movement and tying his horse to a tree rather than letting Merlin do it. Their future selves were discussing by themselves in low whispers. Their sleeping rolls were already out on the ground, side by side. And before Arthur could think to do the same, Merlin came up and unpacked for him, his head bowed. Arthur’s fingers twitched to do something, to hold Merlin as closely as his elder self held Older Merlin, but he didn’t do anything. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Arthur said, gripping tightly at the reins he still held. 

Merlin looked up, holding the sleeping roll at his side, and gave him a hesitant, cheeky grin. Arthur almost smiled. “I’d be a pretty useless manservant if I didn’t.”

And Merlin left as quickly as he came while Arthur was still by his horse, floundering. 

Older Merlin seemed to have made a fire in a short amount of time. _Magic,_ his mind added. Yes, of course. Magic. Merlin had placed Arthur’s sleeping roll close to the fire, a little ways off from where their older selves were. He also had the common sense to place his on the other side of the fire. Arthur didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

They all chewed the food Merlin packed to quell the hunger in their stomachs, but it was tense. Silent. 

His older self cracked first, giving him a solemn gaze. “You know, we do need to talk about Merlin’s magic.”

His Merlin bodily flinched, his head snapping up to meet Arthur’s gaze. Arthur merely chewed on his last piece of dried meat. He said after a moment, “What’s there to talk about?”

“Are you simply going to ignore it?” his elder self asked, leaning against firearms against his legs from where he sat on the log. 

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he exclaimed, clenching a hand into a fist. “Should I just sit here and believe all the lies Merlin has told me? Please, feel free to tell me what to do, since you all think me a fool.”

“I don’t—” his Merlin started. 

“You are _not_ a fool, Arthur Pendragon,” Older Merlin said firmly. He cracked a small smile. “A prat of the highest degree, but a fool you are not.”

Arthur wanted to curl up in himself, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t do it. 

“Tomorrow,” he said, tired of it all. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Everything. And it better be everything. We’ll sleep for now, it’s getting late.”

With that, they all nodded and Arthur flopped down on his sleeping roll, pulling his cape over himself as he turned his back to the fire, to them. He didn’t say who should take which watch, but Older Arthur looked content. Older Merlin must have protection spells or whatnot surrounding them. He could tell by the almost transparent blue haze around them. It reminded him of when Merlin was poisoned and an orb of light had guided him out of the cave, only bigger and less vibrant, more protective than anything. 

It was a long night of pretending to be half-asleep, watching the blue dome with listless eyes as he tried to sleep. He was almost on the edge of unconsciousness when his future self started talking, a little louder than before. 

“You’re soft on him,” his elder counterpart said to the older Merlin. “Me, young me.”

Arthur stayed as still as possible, keeping his breathing deep and even as to mimic sleep. Eavesdropping wasn’t what he intended to do that night. Hell, after the morning he had, he had resigned to barricading himself in his rooms until he could figure his feelings out. But he had to admit, the low whisper of the wind and the cool breeze on his cheeks was a welcomed difference even if he was bloody cold. 

“He’s you,” Older Merlin replied, as if that explained everything. Arthur heard shuffling and the fire roared a little louder and heat returned back to his cheeks. He heard a sigh, but he didn’t know who it came from. 

“He needs a firm hand.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Older Merlin said. “You grew up under the firmest hand a parent could give. I know being back here isn’t ideal, but what you need is love. God knows I have plenty of that for you. Both yous.”

Arthur’s breath caught in his lungs. He didn’t move, for fear that he might ruin the moment he was intruding in. 

Older Merlin continued, “He reminds you of all your regrets, doesn’t he?”

Older Arthur stayed silent as did he. Merlin always did have a particular habit of unspooling the thread of his own soul. 

“There are some things I did when I was younger that could never be forgiven, Merlin,” Older Arthur finally said. He sounded a little hoarse. Arthur wanted to twitch, to move around, but he didn’t. He knew what his elder self was talking about. He still had nightmares about it. About the screaming, the children crying, the blood he spilt. His biggest regrets, it seemed, had never left him. Arthur suddenly felt cold, even though the fire raged heartily at his back. 

“And you redeemed yourself,” Older Merlin said kindly. “Have sympathy for him, Arthur. He is still you.”

Older Arthur let out the shortest laugh. “You’re enamoured with him.” His older self was deflecting, but Older Merlin went along with him. 

“He is rather dashing.”

Arthur was glad to have his back towards them. He could feel his face betray his lack of sleep. 

“Should I finally cut my hair? Shave my beard? Wouldn’t want you to stay here forever if you’re so in love with him,” his elder self teased. 

Older Merlin hummed. “No, well… maybe later. I quite like you like this. And besides, if someone would stay in the past, it would be you.”

“Me? And why is that?”

“My younger self,” Older Merlin said simply. “You find him attractive too. Don’t deny it.”

Older Arthur spluttered a little. “You’re stick thin, I can’t believe I never broke you in two when I took you with me to train.”

“I’m made of thicker stuff. And you still haven’t denied it.”

“Well, you are rather pretty,” Older Arthur said primly. “You look so fae-like. Such delicate features, thin too. It’s a wonder I never bedded you before we started our courtship.”

Arthur almost choked. 

“Oh, please.” Arthur could practically hear the eye roll. “You were so repressed back then. And _I_ started our courtship because you were too stubborn.”

“Well, I proposed,” Older Arthur countered. 

“Yes,” Older Merlin agreed, then his voice lowered, “But I bedded you first.”

Arthur couldn’t help but moved flat on his back. He kept his eyes closed, just in case, but they were too preoccupied to look at him. He strained his ears to hear anything other than the fire, and when he did, he froze. There was a distinct sound of lips against lips, slick and breathy. He heard rustling and Arthur wished desperately to see, to open his eyes and find his fantasies staring back at him. The longer it went on, the shakier his own breath came, and he could feel himself harden in his pants. But he didn’t dare touch himself. Not when he _knew_ he’d make a noise. 

“We have to,” Older Arthur started, cut off for a moment to groan deeply. “We have to stop. We could wake them.”

“Okay,” Older Merlin agreed, but he sounded distracted. “Just our hands then. Promise.”

Older Arthur merely grunted. Arthur himself risked a movement and pressed down on himself, hoping to relieve some pressure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he imagined Merlin’s hands doing it to him, his wet breath on his neck, those blue eyes looking at him from beneath his stupidly long eyelashes. Good God, it felt amazing even thinking about it. 

Older Merlin moaned and it was deeper than Arthur thought it would be, but it rang down his spine. Fuck. He needed to get off, but he was terrified of risking being seen or heard. He opened his eyes slightly, just to see them a little ways away from him in the same position when he pretended to fall asleep. Well, _not_ exactly the same position. 

Older Merlin had straddled his elder counterpart, who rested his back against the tree. Arthur couldn’t see well, but he heard plenty. He bit his lip and reached a hand down to unlace his breeches before he took himself in his hand. He gasped slightly and his eyes flew open fully to check on them, but they were focused on each other. Thank God. 

“F-fuck,” Older Arthur said, panting slightly. Arthur slowly moved his hand up against himself. He was dry and it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but hearing them was better than anything. 

“Hush,” Older Merlin demanded and did something that made Older Arthur grip the back of the other man’s neck. 

“More,” Older Arthur pleaded, voice rough. 

What Older Merlin said next made Arthur grip himself so tightly to stop himself from making a mess. He had whispered, “So greedy.” And Arthur _crumbled._

Older Arthur’s choked moan made his own eyes roll back. Arthur felt all his blood rush down to his cock, imagining what Merlin’s hands were doing. He could picture them now, nimble fingers but strong and large. He was probably gripping both of them. He imagined Merlin’s own cock, long just like him. Arthur’s lips tingled, aching to take him in his mouth. He wanted to moan aloud, but he found a sliver of restraint instead and watched again as the two older men seemed flushed and uninhibited in the dead of night. 

Arthur stroked himself and he was a little embarrassed at how close he was to coming. Older Merlin let out the slightest gasp and his elder self slammed his hand down the ground to keep himself steady. They came, both of them, and Arthur wasn’t far behind, risking to hold a hand to his mouth to keep himself from making noise. 

Older Merlin sat down on his older self’s thighs and licked at his hand. Arthur’s jaw slackened, his muscles feeling sluggy and overrun. 

“God, I love you,” Older Arthur said, his words slurring together a little. “Clean us up will you?”

Older Merlin simply leaned in and kissed Older Arthur, chastely before he climbed off to sit at his side, gripping his hand and leaning down on his shoulder. He must’ve spelled them clean because he made no move to grab a spare cloth. Damn, Arthur was still messy. He sneakily grabbed one of the handkerchiefs that was holding some of their food and wiped his hand before he shoved in under his blanket. Just when he was about to finally sleep, weighed down by the pleasure, his eyes caught Merlin’s, _his_ Merlin’s gaze from across the fire. 

Merlin was flushed and glassy eyed and Arthur could tell it wasn’t from the heat of the flame. They locked eyes and said nothing. They couldn’t say anything without their older selves knowing. But an understanding passed through them, carrying a distinct longing with it. They wanted each other. It was as clear as day, but despite feeling overwhelmed from the intimacy of their older self’s relationship, his heart still ached. Merlin still had magic, but that was never the problem. It wasn’t. But to know he never had Merlin’s full trust hurt in a way that he never felt before. 

Arthur turned away and slammed his eyes shut, wishing for the sunrise to wake them already. Tonight was enough of an adventure.

* * *

Arthur didn’t sleep well that night. He awoke just before dawn broke and he sat up, watching the still-burning fire crackle noisily against the cool air. Merlin was on his side, one hand underneath his cheek and the other outstretched towards the warmth. He was pale, cold. Arthur sighed and stood up, grabbing his leather vest and shoving it on. He picked up the handkerchief from last night and shoved it in the folds of his vest while taking the blanket — still warm from his body heat — and slowly walking over to Merlin with light footsteps. 

With gentle hands, he covered Merlin with it and froze as Merlin moved, but eventually settled. He headed out towards a stream that he had heard earlier, passing through the blue dome with an odd shiver. He fished out his handkerchief and hissed lowly at the biting cold as he washed away the remnants of last night. 

He heard footsteps and he stopped moving. 

“It’s me, Arthur,” Older Merlin reassured him. 

Arthur frowned, but wrung out the water from the cloth. He moved and laid it out to dry while he sat down, staring at the tepid stream. 

“The wards woke me up,” Older Merlin explained, even though he didn’t ask. “I went out to check on it and I saw that you were gone.”

Arthur didn’t say a word, even while the other man sat down next to him. Close, but not quite touching. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his own arms around them, like he had done before back when he was a child afraid of his father. 

He finally asked, “Am I a good king?”

“The best in all of Albion.”

Older Merlin seemed hesitant as he reached a hand out, but Arthur did nothing to persuade him to retract it, so he placed a hand in his hair and stroked the strands away from his face. Arthur’s eyes closed and he leant into the touch. It had been so long since he was touched like this. By the time he was a child, his father had dismissed all his nursemaids and gave him a practice sword instead. War over love, it seemed. 

“Arthur…” Older Merlin sighed out. “You will be the greatest king the world has ever known.”

He opened his eyes lazily and watched as the morning sun filtered in through the trees, hitting Merlin in a scattering yellow haze. “Can I trust your words, Merlin? Or is that another lie?”

Merlin’s hand stilled momentarily before moving again. “I made a promise to myself and my Arthur that I would never lie to you again.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “We went through this years ago. The confession. My magic. Arthur ignored me for days and I was so fed up I confronted him on whether or not he’ll banish me or kill me.”

Arthur lifted his head up slightly and shook it. “I, I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Older Merlin said and his fingers rested on Arthur’s cheek, caressing them softly. “He said the exact same thing. I told him about everything: all my regrets, my successes, how many times I’ve saved your life and others, how many have died by my hand. By the end of it, I was so tired, Arthur. But Arthur just asked me to swear to never lie to him again. And I’ve kept my promise ever since.”

Arthur dry-swallowed. 

“What did you do?” he asked. 

“That’s not for me to tell you, Arthur.”

“Why not?” 

“Your Merlin should be the one to tell you,” Older Merlin said. “Telling my Arthur… it was freeing to open up myself to you. I can’t take that away from him. He needs to do it himself.”

“Okay,” Arthur agreed. 

They stayed like that until the cloth by his side was dry and he was lulled into a semi-unconscious state by Older Merlin’s hands on his head, his skin, by the morning sun warming him slowly. 

“We should head back,” Older Merlin said, moving his hand away to stand up. Arthur almost swayed, his body reaching to get one last touch before he stood up and got everything in order. He stretched out his back while still on the floor and took Merlin’s hand as he righted himself up. “Merlin’s probably awake, but I have to go and wake Arthur up.”

Arthur looks up through the trees and squints lightly. “It’ll be a good hunt if we start in a few hours.” 

“You know we have to talk—”

“Yes, yes, I know” Arthur said, frowning. He repeated, “I _know,_ but let me have this.”

He would go insane without at least a little bit of normalcy. Older Merlin seemed to sense that and he nodded, albeit with furrowed brows. They walked back, the blue dome covering them again, and Merlin was sitting on a log, his leg bouncing. His eyes snapped towards them and he stood up, almost by reflex. 

“I, uh,” Merlin started. “You didn’t leave.”

Arthur almost snorted. Idiot. He said instead, “We’re going hunting once he — the other Arthur wakes up and we all eat.”

“Of course.” Merlin nodded and sat back down ungracefully. 

The other Merlin had already left Arthur’s side to kneel by his older counterpart’s. Arthur didn’t know what he was expecting. Merlin had woken him up countless times before, usually very annoying and very loud. But Older Merlin simply knelt and kissed his older self awake. 

Older Arthur let out a contented sigh in Older Merlin’s mouth before blinking himself awake. He whispered against Older Merlin’s lips, “Morning.”

Arthur stared unabashedly at the display. Older Merlin smiled and sat back down on his heels. Older Arthur sat up and pulled Older Merlin into another kiss before he stood up. 

Arthur stole a glance at Merlin and saw his own wide eyes. He quickly looked away before Merlin could realise. They ate a light breakfast before Arthur finally headed out deeper into the woods, a crossbow in his hands and the others at his back. Older Arthur had a crossbow too, ready to hunt alongside him. With a quick nod, both he and the other Arthur ventured further into the forest. 

By mid-day, Arthur had amassed a relatively decent amount of game as did Older Arthur. No deer in sight, but they managed to snag a couple of rabbits between the both of them. Both Merlins were relatively quiet and Arthur wasn’t used to the lack of prattling in his ears, the space where Merlin would be a glaring ache he couldn’t soothe. When he turned to look back, he saw both of their heads bowed together, discussing something he couldn’t hear. Must be a magic spell to make them silent to his ears. They had done enough hiding. Arthur clenched his jaw and grabbed his game and marched towards Merlin, shoving it at his chest. 

“We’re done,” he said tightly. 

Merlin protested, scrunching up his nose in disgust as he held it by his side. “Hey! No need to be such a prat.”

“Arthur,” his elder self said, though it sounded more like a warning. 

Arthur turned back and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve all been waiting to talk. I think it’s high time to do it.”

Arthur looked back at Merlin whose hand was becoming white with the way he was holding on so tightly. A sliver of guilt wormed its way into Arthur’s chest. 

“Fine,” Older Merlin said, giving Arthur a confused look. “Let’s go.”

It was a tense walk back and he was a little tempted to grab his horse and ride back to Camelot if he didn’t already know that Older Merlin could magic himself in front of him. Once he saw their horses, Arthur sat down on one of the logs and shucked off his leather vest, too heated by the sun. The others were less hurried, Merlin’s especially with the way he was dragging his feet. 

They all sat down, their older counterparts together on another log adjacent to his while Merlin picked up the courage to sit by his side. Arthur stared at Merlin’s hands, resting on his lap, fingers pale and long and sturdy. Arthur wished for simpler times, back when he could hide away the love he had for Merlin. Back when he didn’t know he could even have Merlin, like Older Arthur did. He cleared his throat and they looked at each other like complete _idiots_ before Arthur said, “Well?” No one spoke a word. “Oh, come on. You all tell me we need to have some big talk and yet you say nothing.”

“It’s not my responsibility to explain Merlin’s magic,” Older Arthur added. Older Merlin merely gave him a look that said _I already told you_ and it made the tightness in Arthur’s shoulders loosen slightly, the memory of their early morning soothing him. 

Arthur finally turned towards Merlin, meeting his gaze head on. After staring at Older Merlin for so long, his Merlin looked so young. Clean shaven and bright, eyes not completely weighed down by age. Arthur’s lip twitched slightly, an unconscious movement. 

“Merlin,” he started, but never finished. What he meant to say was, _Tell me your truths, so I can absolve your lies._

“I have magic,” he said. “My mother told me I was floating objects around even when I was a child.”

Merlin started wringing his hands together and Arthur couldn’t help but grab them in his own palms, rubbing lightly at his wrists. Merlin faltered and his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly before he continued. “My mother thought it wise to send me to Gaius…”

Merlin’s tales were long and harsh, beautiful at times, but always tinged with melancholy. At the most difficult parts, when Merlin’s voice shook and his eyelashes were heavy with tears, Arthur simply gripped Merlin’s hand tighter and closed his eyes as Merlin walked him through his every regret. All the deaths and buildings destroyed. All the harm he had caused. And when Merlin told him that the spirit of his mother wasn’t simply Morgause’s own deception, but his actual mother, Arthur’s own hands trembled at the memory. His mother’s embrace, his father’s lies. By the end of it, Merlin’s voice was hoarse and the sun was beginning to set. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin choked out, his head bowed until all he could see was black hair. He repeated, “Arthur, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His heart broke at the sight. For all Merlin’s sins, Arthur _understood_ — he understood. “You’re forgiven, Merlin,” he said easily. Any anger, any frustration was gone the moment he left the training fields the day before. “And I’m sorry too.”

Merlin’s head snapped up, his eyes rimmed red. “Arthur…”

“No, I am. Truly,” he said. They both treaded a fine line between their past mistakes and the future they could have. “For what my father has done to your kind. For what _I’ve_ done to your kind. I’ve similar blood on my hands that stain yours too, Merlin.” 

He hadn’t noticed their older selves until one of them said, “It’s getting dark out, we should start the fire and make dinner.”

While their older selves were moving around, Merlin asked, “Should I do the fire?”

It took Arthur a second to figure out Merlin asked _him_ that question. He nodded, curious now to see magic being performed in front of his eyes, magic that wasn’t directed at him as an attack. Merlin’s eyes flared gold and, God, it was so bright, so warm. As the gold died down in his eyes, the fire roared with a glee. He demanded, much like a child, “More.”

Merlin flashed him a grin before he raised his hand up and made a dragon out of the smoke. A _Pendragon._ Arthur let out a laugh as it flew up and over their heads, ruffling up their older selves’ appearance too. 

As twilight bleed into nightfall and they all filled themselves up with the game he and Older Arthur caught, Arthur felt lighter than ever. He was grabbing a canteen from his horse when he distantly noticed the looks their older selves gave each other until Older Merlin said, “I think we should leave.”

“What?” Arthur almost protested, throwing Merlin his water. 

Older Merlin gave him a soft glance and stepped closer to him. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat, like the rest of his thoughts. Older Merlin reached out a hand and rested it on Arthur’s cheek. He leaned into the touch and the other man’s gaze darkened slightly. “I stayed, so I wouldn’t completely destroy this timeline. Both of you seem to have made up.”

“And besides,” Older Arthur added, coming up behind to wrap an arm around Older Merlin’s waist. “I miss our bed.”

Older Merlin retracted his hand and smiled at Arthur. His Merlin stood by him, almost touching. 

“What about the horses and the supplies?” Merlin asked. 

“We’ve got it covered.” Older Merlin wiggled his fingers and Arthur snorted lightly. They walked to their own horses and he grabbed tightly on both reins. 

Before Older Merlin could leave, Merlin asked, “Will we ever see you again?”

Older Arthur smirked while Older Merlin simply gave them a wink. Then, in a blink, they disappeared, leaving that now-familiar golden mist in their wake. 

He and Merlin set up their sleeping rolls once more, silent now. They had said all they needed to for today. Older Merlin had taught Merlin how to set up wards, so they were encased in a blue dome yet again. No need for any of them to take watch.

They took the space where their older selves had slept before and there were mere inches between them now. Merlin fell asleep first, exhausted by the day and the talk. He slept the same: one hand beneath his while his other hand was outstretched towards Arthur. 

Arthur laid on his belly, his forearm pillowing his head. He hesitated for a single moment before he reached out his free hand and tangled it with Merlin’s. And even in his sleep, Merlin’s grip tightened. 

With that, Arthur fell asleep. 

* * *

* * *

In a different future:

“Do you really think they’ll be okay?” Arthur said, brushing off his clothes of the debris. “With all that will happen in their future?”

Merlin just kissed Arthur’s cheek and whispered, “I think they’ll be alright.”

* * *

* * *

_We'll be a fine line_

_We'll be a fine line_

_We'll be alright_

_We'll be alright_

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed !!!! find me on [tumblr](https://merlinemrys.tumblr.com/) :D & you also reblog the [fic post](https://merlinemrys.tumblr.com/post/619138563294052352/finelinefic) if you want !!!


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